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Best Poems Written by Taylor Kimball

Below are the all-time best Taylor Kimball poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Taylor Kimball Poem

Repetition. Repetition. Repetition.

I fear being connect to the past,
But I find my life revolving in cycles.
It was four years ago I first came to a place like this.
Four days there, now three here,
both at the end of February. 

The cycles repeat.

I hurt, I heal, 
I hurt again, 
and there’s no way to stop it.
Maybe I like it this way,
who knows? 
“Who is John Galt?”
Questions there are no answers to.
They aren’t meant to be asked.
But I can’t help it, 
it’s who I am.
So I’ll ask my questions over and over.
And I’ll repeat my cycles over and over.
Until the end of time.

Details | Taylor Kimball Poem

An Apology.

I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.
I don’t mean to exploit you.
I just can’t hold this inside.
You have your outlets, 
well this is mine.
Don’t worry,
I’ll never state your name, not directly anyways.
I’m just sharing my emotions with others.
If you don’t like it, then don’t be the cause of them.
Please don’t think I take pleasure in writing these words.
To write them only opens wounds once closed.
It hurts as much to read them,
as to write them,
as to feel them,
    all again.
There’s no joy here, only memories. 
I’m just a child who hopes to heal his heart.
            Please don’t be mad.

Details | Taylor Kimball Poem

A New Destiny (The Fall of Man)

I’ve heard whisperings,
rumors of a new manifest destiny.
What that entails, I can’t be sure.
But it’s bound to happen.
Rumors always stem from some sort of truth.
And I intend to find it, even if it tears me apart.
People are searching for a new home.
We’ve ruined the ones we have.
Squandered our resources.
And now we will pay for it.

Is there hope for this race?
         Just a shred.

We had a good run, but our time is up.
We ignored all the warnings,
And now it’s to late.
The worst of it is, there’s nothing I can do.
Once again I find myself powerless and at the same time,
                                  helpless.
If I can’t help myself, how can I expect to help them?
Self-sacrifice, is that it’s true definition,
to help others, when there’s nothing you can do for yourself?
                               Then so be it.
I’ll break myself to save them.
And they will hail me a martyr.
A savior to a dying race. 
Just look to the past, you’ll see it’s true.
We nailed one to a tree long ago and look where that’s gotten him.
He saved our souls and denied himself.
So shall I do the same and they will hate me for it.
My blood will cover these cities.
It will cleanse and purify, restoring all that was lost.

Then Hope will return like a child, a thief.
Small, Silent, Unsettling.
And given time it will grow, allowing us to continue.
A renewed strength pulsing through our veins.
And so we shall carry on,
until again hope is lost and another will rise, like so many before him,
to lose himself and save us all.

Details | Taylor Kimball Poem

C-O-L.

Hello Child of Light,
  
       I/ve watched you ovrhead, radiating all the E_rth. We’ve seen you grow with 
such 

persistence (Trees tie us to the sky). The catastrophes that have been as a result 

of you actions can now be overlooked^its^a^new^year. Don’t count on love always 
being 

there to mimic you when you wish. Your powers have grown over time but your 

becoming has yet to reach its potential. DON’T. QUIT. YET. Life is beautiful and 
full of 

things the world has never seen. (Pretend you care, it looks better.) The 

Bridge to the past is closed forever but the road to the future is clear and present. 
It waits 

only for you to take the first step. Your lungs will never fail you if treat them with 

respect. “Please save us mortals from our own imaginations! OH C-O-L!”. You 

know, I simply cannot understand people. We deceive ourselves with dreams 
and 

imaginings and love. If you listen you’ll hear a c-o-l-l-e-c-t-i-v-e rumbling in 

Amerika. Something has to break s00n. 4nd it will. The 5th horseman never 

forgets ill done to him. Revenge will always be extracted on those who 

ask for it. (The modern town hardly knows silence.)  We fear being 

connected with the past. 
                     C^n n0thing m_o_r_e be d-ne?
 
                                     -T<>K




Know Thyself. 
   Then The Rest Will Be Revealed.

Details | Taylor Kimball Poem

Threaded.

I’ve threaded my fingers and turned my body into beads.
Like a necklace I was strung and now she wears me ‘round her throat.
Everyone compliments her new accessory.
They say it suits her perfectly; 
 they’ve never seen a better match.
They can’t tell I’m wearing her down.

Details | Taylor Kimball Poem

Cocaine

What have I gotten myself into?
There’s never enough cash to buy enough.
     And when there is,
        There’s never enough to buy.
“What’s with all the nose bleeds?”
God I hate awkward questions.
“Don’t worry, just allergies.”
That excuse never works in winter. 
	But I sure do love snow.
Pure, crisp white snow.
Each flake like it’s sent from Heaven.
City streets covered in it,
That’s a real winter wonderland.
As for now you only find it in small patches.
Tiny pieces of paradise most forget to look for.
The really special ones come from far off lands.
Places where people live free and it snows all year long.
	I know some who’ve sold everything just to get their hands on it.
I’ve seen rich old men who set it in bowls on their coffee tables.
They know their bodies can’t handle the cold.
But at that age, who really cares? 
	“Your sure looking thin these days.”
 “Thanks, I’m on this new diet plan, it keeps me energized 
       and helps me lose weight.”
           “Really? You’ve gotta let me know what it is.”
“Sorry I can’t, it’s a secret…”
	I think I know what God feels like.
I know you can do anything is an indescribable feeling.
It’s like you’re on top of Everest,
  With all the surrounding snow covered peaks in view.
But of course you eventually plummet down to the bottom of the ocean,
  Where you’ll sleep through the next few days.
	“You keep scratching your neck, are you okay?”
“Ya, I got bit by a spider or something.”
	I swear I’m gonna scratch my skin right off.
It’s those damn parasites in my veins that cause the itching.
Maybe I should rip them out…I bet it’d go away then.
	This is taking over my life.
I want to stop. But I cant.
Once you start there’s no going back.
That’s just the way it works.